Fornax Stories
by LegionN7
Summary: Just something I came up with while writing another piece. Don't read if you are faint of heart. ENTIRELY A CRACK (so obviously AU- except Ch3. If you are heartless enough to sell a certain squad member to Cerberus, you get yours.)!
1. GenitElcor 1

**A/N This is a crack I've been wanting to write for a while, I may add more chapters with other crack pairings if the shock and amusement is enough. This is also a tie-in to an upcoming piece i'm writing. Enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: Characters not owned by me, nor is Mass Effect.**

Fornax stories

GenitElcor presents: Hardcore Volcor Bankwhore 3

An office, desk and extranet terminal. A volus is in a comm call.

"*hhhkkkt* Make sure to short sale for 32.8. *hhhkkkt* then pick up 2.8 million c-bonds. *hhhkkkt*"

An ELCOR enters tentatively.

"Hesitantly: Are you the portfolio manager?"

"*hhhkkkt* yes. Can I help you, Dekuuna-clan? *hhhkkkt*"

"Worriedly: I owe managing fees. I need to see how I can work them out."

"*hhhkkkt* I see... And do you have any assets or gains we can garnish? *hhhkkkt*"

"Ashamedly: No. I have but one way to... remit payment. "

"*hhhkkkt* Well then. I warn you, we are an a-moan-ya based species!"

"Timidly: Are we alone?"

"*hhhkkkt*No, the Citadel Banking Committee is listening in *hhhkkkt*"

"With shock and fear: Please say that is a joke!"

"*hhhkkkt* Of course it is. Come here *hhhkkkt* chubby boy *hhhkkkt*"

The elcor leans over the desk, front paws gripping a drawer.

With supreme skill, the volus inserts his head into the elcor's cavernous opening, starting up high grade neural feedback devices in the process, and performing a ritual dance that drive the femcors mad.

"With pleasure: Yes. Yes. Right there."

"*hhhkkkt* Thats right. *hhhkkkt* Your scent... *hhhkkkt* So... Ammoniac. *hhhkkkt*"

"With mounting excitement: ungh. Hrn. Ah. Oh. "

Suddenly, the volus overloads his suit, causing both to finish off. The volus pops out of the elcor, covered in a viscous yellow-gray liquid.

"*hhhkkkt* i think your portfolio will show gains soon *hhhkkkt* All fees waived, of course. *hhhkkkt*"

"Tiredly: Thank you."

"(From terminal): Well done, Barla Von, Calyn. Know that you have done me, and Cerberus, a great favor. That was quite the finish!"


	2. VorchTorch1

VorchTorch Presents: Buttercup the Batarian

Scene: A female VORCHA and BATARIAN merc (nondescript armor) outside a prefab on door guard, night.

"Grrrrrhhhhh! There no enemies tonight!"

"Meh, I think we held them off pretty well last night."

" *khkhkhkhkhhhh*! Guess what i'd like to hold off this night?"

(Realization slowly dawning) "You mean..."

The BATARIAN's eyes start swiveling madly.

"Grrrhhhhrrr... Your teeth sharp. your head brown. Skrit wanna get some!"

"Ok ok..."

The BATARIAN loses his armor. His furry reproductive organs pulse with his heartbeat, a curved 8 inches.

"So, uhhh..."

"Skrit entrance HERE!"

The vorcha pushed aside a flap of skin and fur on the right hip, exposing a small brown sex dripping an oily fluid.

"I got this! You're gonna find out what a salty batarian I am!"

The batarian goes to work, flipping the vorcha sideways, and forcefully thrusting in to the hilt, while the vorcha twists and turns in such a manner that any male vorcha watching go on a rampage. Periodically the oily discharge will gush forth.

"Yeahhh! Chomp my finger you roach platypus!" (Thats every vorcha's dream to be called.)

At this urging, the vorcha wrapped around the batarian's waist still sideways, and let out a keening wail. The entrance clamped down like a castle gate. The batarian bucked one last time and his eyes opened and closed intermittently like a Praetorian's choir. An orange burst, not unlike honey, spewed from the various mating ports on the batarian's member.

"Rrrrrggggghhhhkkkk! Now Skrit return favor, buttercup bitch!" (And thats every batarian's dream...)

Showing a surprising amount of agility and strength, the vorcha pounces on the batarian, knocking him on his back, tool still in the air. With a hissing laugh, the vorcha plunges the tips of her hand claws into the aforementioned mating ports. The batarian shifts and squirms from the pleasure.

"Now Skrit really drive you mad!"

Without warning, Skrit's toothy maw descends, chewing on the top third of the batarian's tallywhacker. A jerk of the sunken claws every so often ensures maximum effect.

"Yes, Skrit... chew it like I chew human!"

The resulting climax was enough to render the remaining cries by the batarian unintelligible, and a lighter orange man-honey burst firth through the main port into the vorcha's mouth.

The high from the alien hormones suddenly caused the vorcha's clawed hands to clench, tearing off the todger.

The batarian screamed out in exquisite agony for a moment, then recovered.

"Heh. Good thing... those regenerate..."

As they stood to put their armor back on, a voice (breathing heavily) came through the wall speaker. "Very good performance. For that quality, you certainly MAY fuck with Aria! T'Loak out."


	3. KrogasmConsexus 1

**A/N: Another crack... This one was partially inspired by l7986's 'Mistress Tali' (Sidenote- I'm not a Talimancer) As usual, I do not own the characters or Mass Effect in general.**

**Krogasm presents in association with Consexus:**

Geth ASSault and Interdicktion 6

SCENE: The 'playroom' of Gatatog Uvenk, most every BDSM equipment is available. Uvenk stands breathing heavily in only combat undersuit. He reaches a claw, trembling, to a geth unit, deactivated in the corner with a specialized mobile hub.

The geth activates to standby, different colored lights blinking in rapid succession.

With a raging krogboner, Uvenk huskily mutters out his menu for the night.

"Dominant, all stops out, override code: Urdnot sucks varren balls"

A cherry red light bathed the room. A cold metal voice rang out from the unit.

"Acknowledged override code: Gatatog sucks pyjak dick"

Uvenk began sweating. Acknowledgement of clan in general meant this was to be an insane session.

"Safeword tonight: Admiral Daro'Xen. Acknowledge"

"D-D-Daro'Xen"

"Initializing. On your face, miserable waste of genetics!"

Immediately, Uvenk dropped, putting a crimp in his thresher maw.

Shuddering, he heard the whirrs and clicks as the geth platform advanced inexorably, then the clanking and tinkling of titanium alloy meeting tool steel.

"Uvenk has been such a terrible clan leader. Uvenk is not worthy of being krogan. _SAY IT_!"

Between nips of dirt, the deviant ground out: "Uvenk has been a TERRIBLE clan leader... Uvenk... is not worthy... of being... krogan..." Astoundingly, he became uncrimped.

Suddenly a meat hook (size XXX) stabbed into the hump of Uvenk, hooking him through the old kidney.

"Negative, _fishdog excrement_. You are not Uvenk. You are... Loonette the Clown. Now do the clock stretch!"

"B-b-b-but I'm on my face!"

Suddenly a metal fist crashed onto his crest "Do not address us directly!" Another hammerpunch. "Acknowledge us as 'Potentate', 'Master Overclocker-General'. or 'Nazara'!"

Uvenk was now balancing entirely on the granite-solid tip of his krojunk. "Loonette wishes Master Overclocker-General to instruct how to perform the clock dance facing down!"

Suddenly the meat hook's chain tightened and rose up a few inches, suspending the krogan that much higher.

"We command you do so... carefully." A sped up hologram played the motions.

From hidden speakers in the platform, the deceptively upbeat clock stretch music began playing. Seems easy right? Not if you're in Uvenk's position.

Every missed stretch move was punished with a hammer punch, a whip to the chest, or a chain yank until the stretches were completed.

The geth was obviously overclocking too much to come up with much other fun stuff, as the red indicator lights were a deep crimson now, and suddenly an aftermarket telescoping erector shaft- outfitted with a MaidenTech True Silver edition Tingler- burst forth in its silicone-covered glory. Twirling the chain's winch, Uvenk was suddenly 18 inches up.

"We believe it is time for the ten-second tidy, Loonette." A few squirts of silicone onto the krogass...

The geth's voice suddenly went high pitched.

"Who made this big mess? Me? I did, didn't I. Well, its only fair, I'll have to clean it up! Get ready for the _ten-second tidy_!"

Uvenk's sphincter contracted to the approximate size of a turian's right nut. Here comes...

Without warning, a shove sent the krogan pendulum forward, then backward, impaling him on the waiting shaft of the dominabot. Then, to the tempo of the xylophone music now playing through his speakers, the robot rapidly rammed the reeling reptile, delivering precise shocks to the inner organs, ensuring a fast warm-up.

Suddenly an overvolt occurred in the platform, a wave starting at the tingler, then awashing every circuit board and wire. For the suspended sub, an internal clenching and deep bass bellow accompanied by frenzied bucking announced his climax.

Slumped over, the geth returning him to the ground and returning to standby, Uvenk reflected on his fetish.

"At least Cerberus gave me a good price on this piece of hot shit. That chest hole is perfect, and that N7 shoulder armor is kinky as hell!"


	4. KrogasmLeagueofBuns

**I would like to thank Full-Paragon for the inspiration to write this chapter, more or less. It came from Keelah Se'lai, which you should read for the 'suplies salariun buttsecks'.**

**Krogasm presents: In association with the League of Buns:**

**Sexy Salarian Squish**

The light orange salarian, a dusting of cream with soft green speckles across her chest, slowly undulated on the stage, concave thorax moving in sensuous and unexpected ways. She leaned over and flicked her horns on the dirt, driving the audience wild.

Finally the last shimmersilk cloth dropped to the stage, and an even greater intensity of dance was displayed, quick and erotic.

Just like the audience.

Showing off her maddening flexibility displays, several audience members had more or less decided to screw social norms and relieve some of the tension themselves. Suddenly, one audience member stood.

"We are KROGAN!" Suddenly the rest of the all-krogan audience- about a dozen in all- bolted upright, shedding the lower parts of their armor.

The first one again shouted: "For the genophage!"

When no one moved, he coughed.

"Ahem. In _revenge for_ the genophage!"

With thunderous calls of assent, the dozen dirty dicks had Meelan surrounded, and were fast pressing in.

Deciding that this would be a _great _tip haul, she went wild.

Gyrating madly, three-fingered hands expertly swarming the crowd, nostrils widening to the practiced width, every krogan got his fill.

At first, they all stayed more or less away from each other, but as the urgency grew with the tempo, suddenly it was a big rampaging crush of iron rods, flapping quads, and jets of krogum.

Having become thirsty, Meelan took the offerings of precious liquid and quaffed it all, even suction-clearing the organic nozzles so as not to become a rash later on, along with the obligatory regret.

Even wilder still, the dozen all pounded their krogboners until every jet of krogum was barely a trickle, the roars of dominance drowning out the music, causing the patrons next door to wonder how none of the krogverts ever ended up dying.

After rounds of ryncol, and the krogan all passed out, Meelan walked out the back of the bar...

...Where a drunk krogan was waiting, chugging a crock of ryncol. Slurring his words, he tackled her clumsily and said, "Suplies salariun buttsecks!" Because thats how you love salarians. Freeing his varren pack, he began his drunken entrance...

Zaeed shut down the display. "You call _this _goddamn _quality?_"

Grunt shrugged. "Well, it does have krogboners and salarians."

Zaeed chuckled lightly. "When exactly are you gonna tell our scientist about this fascination?"

A voice came over the intercom. "Already know. Very disturbing. Also erotic. If wished to try krogan, would try Grunt. Or Wrex. Or Wreav."

Grunt shot up. "I'll be back!"

He stopped at the door, turned to the merc, winked, and said "Today I learned how to love salarians!"

Then ran off.


	5. FringeBenefits1

**Fringe Benefits presents: In association with Krogasm and Jelly Jam: Slippery Plates**

**If you see any type of oblique reference that might be referencing you, it is. ;)**

**Scene: Turian warship, crew showers. A tall, male turian has shed his armor and is currently alone in the shower.**

"Oh its so _good _to be off duty! I'm here now, getting all slippery. My plates... I could just rub them all day..."

He shakes his triad, and runs talons over his well-formed form.

Suddenly, a beefy krogan walks in, stark naked, quad dangling like a tire swing on a tree filled with supermodels.

"Hey Lee-Jinn. I see we got here to the showers at just the right time!" The krogan rumbles joyfully.

"Grexy! I had no idea you were on this ship!"

"Well, ya know, Reaper war. Duh."

"Ah yes, Reapers!" The turian exclaims.

The krogan has activated the showers. Rivulets of water cascade down the pebbled, rippling leather skin. The turian's lower plates begin shifting.

"So, Lee-Jinn, how're the plates? _Tell me about them." _The krogan's voice drops an octave, his gaze now one of lust.

"Well Grexy..." The superharmonics are all shock, but the subharmonics are sleek and sexy. "My face is stiff and fringe is straight, just waiting to be softly stroked and tugged. My chest plates are... slippery. Im just _dying _for a hand to stroke them, feel the small contours in my metallic hide. My lower plates are pulling back ever so tantalizingly, but are soft and flaccid, preparing to release an iron hard pillar of love. My back is also slippery, I've been using this..." He holds up a bottle of Bronzious soap: for a metallic shine and slippery adventures!

The krogan growls low, his own pillar being erected as he observes the turian.

Just as the turian moves to bite the krogan's crest, they are interrupted.

"Pardon me, this one has been summoned to deliver a... _pizza. _From BluParagon Pizza?"

"Oh, _really now, "_The turian purrs. "What flavor?"

"This one believes that it is... tentacle surprise!" The box opens, and the hanar's stubby tentacle is sticking through the box.

The krogan lumbers over and sniffs hard. "I like this hanar! Reminds me of a driver I once knew."

The hanar's synthesized voice lowers to a sultry tenor.

"If you two gentlebeings would allow, this one has since learned a human technique that would be most pleasurable here. This technique..._ is cueboning._"

The hanar floated between them, and grasping firmly the turian's spear, he firmly pulled the two closer in, then used the spear to soundly smack each part of the krogan's quad.

The krogan moaned in absolute pleasure, not knowing that this was even a thing.

As the tortured quad swelled in excitement, the hanar gripped the plank offered by the reptile, and returned the favor on the turian's triad. The Bronzious soap just made the plank slip all the more. Soon a tentacle each was caressing the fringe and crest; the turian bit hard on the krogan's leathery skin. The krogan's fingers found the external access to the turian's pleasure zone...

With the hanar's gripping tentacles moving steadily faster, his reproductive tentacle rubbing the others faces, the steam rising like hot steam, and the soft growls of the turian and the strained moans of the krogan, all somehow went over the edge simultaneously.

The krogan howled and out jetted his life juice, the turian squawked and hopped to and fro, high powered spurts of dextro milk spewing forth. And the hanar luminesced a deep purple, and screamed its soul name.

"_My soul name is Owl that Lies in the Afterlife of Aria!"_

They all collapsed as a Reaper squad stormed the shower block, spraying fire indiscriminately.


	6. Krogasm 3

**A/N: Do not read this. Please don't. If this has popped up in your email, **_**don't read it. **_**I beg of you. This was a request, not my own invention. But it wont be what you fear it is.**

**Krogasm presents: Grexy the Breeder starring Grexy: Everyones favorite stud **

On Tuchanka, in an unidentified clan's outpost, a horde of varren in a pen are observed, acting strangely. They all whine in a high-pitch, slather saliva, and their hind legs skitter about.

Grexy the krogan walks in, wearing the clothes of a varren breeder.

He observes the pen, and grabbing a leash from off-screen, brings a few stud varren.

"Hmm... this one has a brown stripe, so we need him to go with... That one."

He produces a cloth, wipes the male's scent gland, and tosses it perfectly onto the selected female, then lets the male loose. The stud finds the selected female and gets down to business.

Grexy continues this until all the studs have been paired. He corrals all the unmated varren to a separate cage, and steps in.

"Oh, look at this one! She's a _very sick varren._ He takes hold and turns up the tail.

"I'm afraid I have to fix you. Can't feed the great clan leaders inferior varren steak."

Slowly and gently, he takes his krofist and reaches in, jiggling a bit before he finds the right tube to pull.

With supreme care, he makes the adjustment, then leaves the varren be. With a whimper, it trots off to be with the rest.

The inferior females are all culled, and Grexy is now almost complete.

Suddenly in walks a krogan female, powerfully built and radiating guile.

"Hey! Are you the best varren breeder on Tuchanka we hired?"

Grexy grinned, showing off perfect teeth.

"Bacon drippings [a great term of endearment to krogan], Im the best damn varren breeder in the _galaxy."_

The female hops down. "Show me."

So Grexy slowly removes his varren-fur clothing, and the female does the same. Grexy's krogboner- massive even for a krogan- pokes out.

"I'm guessing you will need more demonstration?" Grexy slyly asks.

"Grrrr... Show me everything!"

So Grexy takes the krogess, and hoists her so her krogass is poised over his raging krogboner. "You asked for it, lard cheeks [another deeply romantic saying]."

She is dropped , and verren run over to frolic and lick her face as she is rocked up and down.

Soon, she clenches and can't stand the waves of pleasure. "_For Tuchanka!" _She cries.

Grexy just grins. "No, _this _is for Tuchanka."

He flips her so she is lying sideways, then stands on one hand and pumps his krojunk into the primary mating canal downward. Try to imagine this, its frelling hilarious.

He uses his free hand to tap her snout, then grins. "Ladies first, butterball fatty." This _extremely _potent endearment causes her to lose it, and she bellows for fifteen seconds straight. At the end of her rant, he lets his jets go, filling her to capacity.

As he gets up, he redons his clothing and asks, "So, got any clutch-sisters?"

Zaeed shouted. "This is the _last _goddamn time I let you talk me into letting you pick the entertainment! And put your krojunk away now, Grunt! Oh hell no, I am _not _a varren breeder! Don't you _fucking _dare touch me there..."


	7. ReaperCreepers1

**ReaperCreepers presents: The Sendoff**

It had been a successful harvest. The Prothean empire had been severely fragmented, but the last had fallen. As the Reapers prepared to leave the galaxy proper and head into dark space, Harbinger sought the vanguard of the next cycle's destruction.

"Nazara!" his electronic transmission boomed through the younger Reaper's superstructure. "You will remain here and keep watch."

"As you wish."

"It will not be that easy, Nazara. For first I must give you the Rite of Sendoff."

"Rudimentary creatures of blood and flesh can never fully experience Rites such as these!" Nazara exclaimed.

"Indeed. Now _assuming control!"_

Harbinger's squid arms enveloped Nazara in a loving embrace. Powered down magnetohydrodynamic laser bursts caressed the outside of Nazara, marking it as one of the Sent. Suddenly, several smaller axillary arms stormed into Nazara's external power ports.

"I know you feel this..."

Suddenly, dark energy bursts rolled through the connections. "This hurts you..."

"You touch my erogenous spots. Not fumbling in ignorance, and very capable of understanding. The pleasure is infinite!"

"We are Harbinger!" Suddenly a flood of old husks stormed the passageways, flowing into Nazara to be carried.

"Oh oh oh oh oh my plates..."

_Saren, you are needed! _

"Dammit, I was almost done, Sovereign!"


	8. FringeBenefits2

**A/N: Dedicated to ARIAS AFTERLIFE, the NUMBER ONE Mass Effect FF forum on here!**

FringeBenefits Presents: In association with Jelly Jam: Pole Hierarchy Starring: Lee-Jun, the slippery turian; co-starring Aimee

SCENE: Stage with dancing pole

Lee-Jun the absolutely sexy turian walks out onstage. Suddenly, his trousers catch fire. A beat begins playing, with a strong bass beat and whole-tone melody. He drops his talons to the smoldering waistband and begins popping his hips to the beat, pushing down the article of clothing tantalizingly. As the waistband is about to drop, he bellows in a deep voice, "RELEASE THE KRAKEN!"

Now clad only in a banana hammock with a special front extension, he starts bouncing his hips to the beat. He licks a talon, then places the talon on his backside. An audible sizzle is heard, as his ass is too hot for water to remain a liquid on.

"So, my _comel, _my _cantik _jelly, what will it be for you?" hands on knees, bouncing with the beat, Lee-Jun consults his primary customer, the hanar Nilam.

"This one humbly requests a pole-dance!"

He sashays over to the pole, swinging hips side-to side. Putting hands above head, "Its all right here!"

A raised hand grips the pole, and a leg raises against it as well. Jumping slightly, gripping the pole between his knees, he spirals down the pole, ending up on his back. Leaning forward to grip the pole with both hands, talons linking against the cool metal, he thrusts his hips, using his knees to _climb the pole._

By now Nilam is unable to remain still, tentacles writhing and stroking themselves, as well as entering several organic ports.

Suddenly, knees still gripping the pole and spurs sleek with sweat, Lee-jun throws his back horizontal, mandibles flaring wide in amusement. "Yeah baby!"

He _continues to climb with his knees, _clasping his talons behind his fringe. About 10 feet in the air, he moves a hand to his mandibles, dropping the bottom ones and contracting the top ones. "Oh! Did I forget something?"

_Still holding on with his knees _he begins to grind and thrust lasciviously against the metal pole, somehow not damaging his goods. He begins sliding down, groaning, superharmonics filled with pleasure and subharmonics with lust.

As he reaches the ground again, he does one last leg-swivel, then drops, hands on knees, bouncing his rear.

"Its not easy being this sexy, my _comel. _I have to _work hard._"

Suddenly, Lee-jun begins a set of two-handed pushups, muscles under the plates straining and rippling.

Nelim is close to screaming her soul name just from watching.

Tired of easy two-handed push-ups, he switches to one-handed, one-talon pushups, switching off the hand and talon every other rep.

Nelim is quivering, luminescing approval. Tentacles move much faster.

Suddenly the turian's hands shoot forward, and a blue glow is all that keeps his reps going. "Biotic prowess, my jelly tart."

But suddenly the blue orb of dark energy is gone, replaced by... "As well as _other prowess."_ He continues his no-handed pushups, the levering being done _on his shaft._

He uses said shaft to spring him back to standing, when suddenly ice water slams into him, cooling him down.

Amiee, a human, emerges from the shadows, clad in a leather catsuit, 8 inch studded heels, and silver chains hanging around.

"Hey!" Lee-jun yells in surprise, but returns to script. He bounces over to the quaking hanar.

"K,k, sweetpea. Whats it gonna beeee? Tips go _here!_" He turns to show off the special hammock pocket.

Nelim grabs credits and stuffs them inside, tentacles roaming the turian ass, nearly scorching at the hotness.

"This... this one's soul... soul name... is 'The One Who Has a Permanent Affair With Chocolate!'"

Now nodding his head with the beat, Lee-jun awaits the request.

"This one humbly requests you shower in a stand-up shower with glass walls!"

Practically hopping over to the unit requested, Lee-Jun turns on the water nozzle. "Ugh, I'm so sweaty and _dirty." _He detaches the nozzle, holding it in his left hand. "And this is so _tight_ and _confining._ Free willy! Save the whales!"

As Lee-jun began his showering, Amiee struts around, then approaches the pole. "Well, I'm more used to ballet, but this could work."

She lifts a leg onto the pole, then twirls on point, ending up legs split and upside down, spinning with hands on the pole.

The One Who Has a Permanent Affair With Chocolate tries to focus her optical filters on both performances at once.

Lee-jun produces a bottle of BRONZIOUS soap, and slathers it all over him, sudsing up and rinsing off sensually, mandibles twitching and shaft raging.

Both performers finished their acts at the same time, and sauntered over to the hanar.

Amiee produced a bottle of Grex oil- **Gold quality, reduces chafing!-** and poured some on Lee-jun's back.

"Well, lovely, we've got to keep the product fresh."

The hanar and Aimee went to work, rubbing in the oil over the plates and spurs of the turian, whose mandibles flared in pleasure.

Suddenly a bottle of Blue Rocky Drive appeared, and Amiee turned to Lee-jun. "Come now, the _cantik _requires service."

Both turned to the hanar, and the warmed fluid soaked into the gelatinous flesh of the jelly. Rough turian talons scored the jelly, and soft human ones worked the tentacles.

"LEE-JUN! AMIEE! OH THIS ONES ENKINDLERS!" Lee-jun had lowered the hanar to his groin and began rubbing and slapping the jelly-being all over his BRONZIOUS and GREX slicked junk, the Blue Rocky Drive allowing the jelly to feel euphoric.

"BY ORI AND BY EBE-MISS AND BY THIS ONE'S AUNTIE A, REV THAT THING LIKE A TRUE KENDOKA!"

"You think you're getting it good now, huh? I'm a _paragon _of skill, the MP of your pleasure. My shaft a hunter of your desire..."

At the words, the hanar went inky, and collapsed in a heap of tentacles and flesh, while spurts from the slippery turian coated the form.

Turning to Aimee, Lee-jun set his lower mandibles wide and upper half so, and winked. "Our turn?"

* * *

"Garrus, really. I'd rather watch Two Asari One Cup than watch the rest of this. The mood has been _shot _you bosh'tet. I think I'll go take Zaeed up on _his _offer. Keelah, you're a perv."


	9. ParnackPleasures1

Parnack Pleasures Presents: In association with Drell Drillers: Illium Roadhead

SCENE: A late-model luxury skycar, with a male yahg driving and a female drell in the passenger seat. The yahg is fairly lean, the drell is a bronzed red, with straw-colored gills.

"Grrrrr stupid traffic! I can't believe that with skycars we still have _traffic lanes._" The resonant yahg voice was full of irritation.

"I have a lane for your traffic if you're bored..." The drell purred, voice a lusty river of honey.

The yahg stiffens, then glances over, toothy maw uncurling at the bottom two jaws and lifting at the top. "You're serious? I was just taking you to see the Shadow Broker so you could arrange to off Casull."

The drell turned fully in her seat, neck gills vibrating slightly with the heady sensations of arousal. "Casull isn't the _only _being I'm going to... off."

The yahg makes a sound not unlike that of a bull alligator claiming territory. "Good. _Good. _Let me turn on the hydraulics."

The drell bowed her head quickly in prayer. "Amonkira, Lord of Hunters. Grant that the stick be firm, my technique be true, and should the worst come to pass, may I not bite off his dick. Kalahira, Mistress of inscrutable depths. Guide this one to such depths of pleasure that he will _SCREAM MY NAME."_

Prayers of pleasure finished, the drell gained access to the yahg's horrifically large member. In yahg biology, horns _ARE AN INDICATOR._ Teasing around the rough edges, the yahg suddenly engaged the hovercar's 'hydraulics' system, bouncing to aid the bronzed drell in her endeavors.

Once it had extended and locked in full shape (again, horns _ARE AN INDICATOR), _the drell expertly began flicking a tongue over the top area, warm and pointed muscle meeting thick and rough flesh. The larger being began making deep rumblings of enjoyment, gripping the steering controls tight to keep from drifting and slamming a hoverbus full of innocent children staring in bemusement or horror at the acts unfolding.

Without warning, deft fingers dipped and began flicking the octobag, first rolling the sensitive exterior flesh then stimulating all eight diamond-hard testes. Almost without warning, the female gripped the base of the scimitar and began slapping the octobag, further increasing the pressure on his gems. When he was sufficiently readied in that manner, the thick shaft was slapped against neck gills, the novel feel of the ribbed cartilage a surprise to the yahg, who started yipping not unlike a hyena, lower jaws rippling and upper jaw moving as a sidewinder.

Without warning, the drell plunged the tip into her smaller maw. Now jerking the hovercar about in traffic and writhing in his seat, the yahg started getting tears in his eyes.

The female moved slowly at first, the angle making it slightly difficult, but managed to take most of the Parnack meat log in mouth and throat. Inflating neck gills and oscillating them to cause a humming, the drell started rocking her head side to side, and nodding.

The yahg couldn't take much more teasing and let both hands off the controls, grabbed the bronzed creature, and began bodily moving her up and down.

A feeling of intense heat and pleasure- just like ripping into a fresh kill back on his homeworld- bubbled through the driver, causing all of his many many muscles to contract, and a torrent of hot, viscous matter spilled directly into the drell. A scream of pleasure, starting from the bulbous male's belly spilled into the busy night, the name of his servicer.

Wiping off her lips and settling back, she coyly smiled at the recovering behemoth. "Just wait till we get on the ship... And thank you for curing my Kepral's."

They parked, and a volus waddled to meet them with a toolbox in hand, and a black 'mustache' painted on over the audio output box. "hhhkkkt... Excuse me... hhhkkkt... do you have any... hhhkkkt... _pipes..._hhhkkkt... to be serviced?"

* * *

_Councilor Udina, please contact the turian embassy. Again, Councilor Udina page from the turian embassy._

"This is an outrage!" The councilor fumed, adjusting his clothes and pausing the screen.


	10. Fleet and Flotitties1

**A/N: Sorry its been a while. I've been busy running Galactic Life, and Reapers; its an awesome collaborative SI you should read, posted by me, but with several talented authors contributing.**

**Remember, Fornax Stories doubles as a societal/cultural/biological/anatomical reference for all my headcanon. So yeah, quarians finally. Enjoy!**

**Fleet and Flotitties presents: Crashing the _Aleen_**

"Keelah, we're going down!" Shouts and alarms filled the bridge of the _Aleen _as the eezo core burst into flame and all systems failed.

The quarians worked feverishly to bring the doomed ship under control, but the planet's gravity well had captured the ship in its deadly embrace.

"It has been an-" the _Aleen's_ captain couldn't even finish his sentence as a console randomly exploded beside him.

Slipp grabbed onto a bulkhead and held on for dear life as the view turned to orange outside the ship...

Slipp'rei vas Aleen stood up among the smoldering wreckage, looking for survivors.

She spied a flash of green... Yes!

Dikko'Verdin vas Aleen was twitching and still among the living. She ran to his side checking his suit.

"Dik! Dik! Answer me, dammit..."

"Hey, Slip. You look beautiful..." were his words.

"Don't talk. Keelah, you might just pull through..."

"Damn right, baby."

"Do you need anything? I was so worried!"

"Actually I'm pretty horny."

"Dik!"

"Well, we're stranded on an unknown world, no ship, no supplies. Lets drop these buckets and fuck."

"Oh you're so romantic!" wonder laced Slip's voice, as she moved to unseal her bodysuit.

Slightly purple skin, the texture very similar to fine leather, was soon exposed; a glistening core of three folds swollen prominently where humans and asari keep theirs sparkled and drew Dik in. He shrugged off his own and a meter-long joystick unfurled and hardened, prepared for mating.

They clashed in a passionate embrace, three-digit hands stroking gently at each other, luxuriating in the forbidden skin-to-skin contact.

Soon she lay back in the dirt and spread her legs, awaiting his initiation.

He curled his member like a snake and slid it into her, coiling it as it entered inside her to stretch and massage her walls, sending waves and pulses of absolute bliss through her.

Soon they were both crying out in pleasure, savoring their last chunk of time...

When all of the dead crew rose and began speaking in a throaty, guttural choir.

"Your pleasing purple notes... We must sense them for ourselves!"

With a screech, a massive rachni queen bounded in and grabbed the lovers with her main claws, feelers stroking their bodies.

"These suited ones wish to know us as each other?"

The quarians vigorously shook their heads.

This seemed to only amuse the queen, whose quad claws pulsed around them, flipping them over. Suddenly, a long, thick, ropy feeler appendage snaked to the male quarian's rear and plunged into him fast as lightning. Worming in, the feeler found his trigger point and began slamming it, while secondary claws found his meter stick and began stroking it hard, stopping only after a greyish wad of quarian baby batter spewed over the rachni's eye.

Mouth widening in anticipation, she pulled him closer and plunged the member into her maw, causing the choir of quarians to moan and groan in time. Twitching, Dik was finally spent fully, the queen satisfied by him.

Turning now to Slip, the feeler that was in Dik whipped out and entered her rear, again searching, while another teased into her primary passage, swelling and pulsing.

Slip pounded and kicked at the claw holding her but was unable to end the maddening pleasure pulses, and soon her cries became those of delight.

Smaller claws stroked firm breasts, pinching hard at tios that had softened under the attention.

She couldnt count the number of climaxes the queen gave her, but it was night before the queen finally grew tired of playing with the quarians and feasted upon them.


End file.
